


The Pilgrim and the Lady of Light

by violetaubergine



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, My First Fanfic, Non-Canon Relationship, Non-Explicit Sex, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-04 11:17:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6655774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetaubergine/pseuds/violetaubergine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For them, ancient history could have happened yesterday: a memory of a touch, an encounter unlike any other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brief Encounters

Year 1099 of The Third Age

I

When Mithrandir saw her the first time, she was like a queen, distant and cold. Her dress was heavy with embroidered flowers and on her shoulders lay a luscious grey cloak. The plaits around her head were covered with a fine pearl-laced veil. She sat in the high seat beside an empty throne, that of her son-in-law: the master of the valley of Imladris. The hall was nearly deserted, the house quiet with it's residents out on a campaign far up in the north.

The light was dim at the great hall. The fire was burning and the distinct scent of the ancient wood on the floors and the ceiling was of smoke and cedar and pine. Mithrandir walked on in his soft boots and was ashamed of them being covered in mud. The ornate pillars, glass windows covered with thick curtains and bookcases on the wall - all gave a sense of grandeur, this big room where men gathered. The golden pillars had been darkened by age, the curtains were dusty and the few lanterns gave only a little light. 

This was a room for feasts and for war. Now there was only him, and a woman whose gaze left him restless and unsure of himself.

Really, what business he had to even be here?

He bowed his head as he greeted her with the name he had heard already as he had arrived in the havens a long while ago, a name spoken with respect and awe by high people and low alike. She stood up as was her people's way, even the high kings and queens, and walked down the stairs to meet him. Se held her head high, her expression serene, the arches of her eyebrows raised just a little for him to see that she was intrigued.

In the middle of the great hall they met, one as tall as the other, and looked each other in the eye. Both of them carried different names than they are known by now, but in this time she was known simply as the Lady of the Light, a high ruler in the refuge, and here, the temporary Mistress of the House, the only member of the family that was available to welcome the new comer. He was known to the elves simply as Mithrandir, the Grey Pilgrim.

She, a queen: a distant figure, ageless. He, a weary traveller, a simple man in a grey cloak. A pilgrim, a humble scholar arriving from the west and from a past he had forgotten all about.

”A pilgrim seeks refuge in your grace. At your service, and your family’s service”, he said and bowed again, deeper than he had ever before in the face of any king of a reign. 

His voice sounded hoarse after a long day's journey out in the wild. His cape and hat were weather-worn and he had a staff, his support in the mountain trails. His grey beard was long and unkempt and his eyebrows were thick under his wrinkled forehead. But his eyes twinkled like the brightest blue crystals, and they had a sharp gaze that went not unnoticed by the Lady.

"Be welcome, pilgrim. What tidings do you bring from the west?" she said in a low voice.

"I bring a message from the lord of the havens."

"Then let us take this to a more comfortable place", the Lady said. 

She turned and he followed suit.

"The family has been away for a long time and this hall is a cold and dusty place to talk”, she explained.

She walked ahead, her long veil trailing behind her, sweeping the little particles of dust from the floor in it’s wake. A servant opened a side door as he followed her into a light-filled room with a balcony and a view over the valley.

She took a chair by a small table and gestured him to do the same. A servant brought them refreshments. The Lady thanked him and as the servant left, she turned to the pilgrim. She poured him a glass of white wine. There were cakes and fruit. When she handed the cup over to him, he had a sense of a great power emanating from her hand.

Something moved in him. Could there still be forces on Earth to oppose and stand up to Evil? A memory, distinct and vague, flashed in his mind. A tree. A cloud. He shook his head and the moment passed. 

He sat and wondered at the woman who was now speaking amicably about the harvest, the fields he had walked past as he was approaching the House.

"How are my cousins far back on the western shores? For surely you must know that we firstborns are all related."

”Círdan, the lord of the havens was fine as I saw him decades ago", the pilgrim told the Lady. 

Pleasantries, as was a habit in the higher circles. Their needs were readily taken care of. As a mother-in-law of the Lord of the House, she was quick to summon servants for all their needs. Mithrandir felt it was time to get to the business.

"Darkness is trying to gain footstep on these shores, as it always does. I bring a warning. In my travels I have been turned down by the rulers of men in the northern kingdoms, but I thought that here in the east there may be someone who still listens. For you are more familiar with threats from the mountains and the dark forests."

The Lady sighed. 

"Men do not like warnings, nor the messengers who bring them." 

"So I have learned", he said. 

"As they turn their heads, in the shadows a dark force moves unseen. The seafront villages of the south have been lost. There has not been a king in the southern kingdom for many years and it's people now bow to a new master."

”You are not referring to the King’s city of Anor?" the Lady said.

"No, of course not. The people there are loyal. But the vast realms in the souths are growing darker. It is only a matter of time before the city is wiped out, and after that, the whole Middle-earth.”

"We know of these things. Even now my son-in-law is up north fighting the evil creatures on our borders. We have lived with this threat for a long time and resisted it. Sometimes at terrible personal cost." 

She poured more water into her glass and he saw her hand trembling slightly. Only then he marked that she wore an armor under her cloak, a tight vest around her waist and breasts. Her eyes looked worried. He waited, but she did not continue the subject.

”What do you suggest as a course of action?"

He cleared his throat.

"We should take a look at the Great Greenwood.” 

She lifted her head and seemed to listen closely. It was nothing he could point at, but he could feel the atmosphere in the room changing. He could feel the air move in the room even though the windows were shut and there was no wind. She glanced at him, even though she could not have known he’d noticed the change.

”Thank you for telling me this. Excuse me”, she said and rose. ”I have urgent matters to attend to."

He tried to say something, but could not think of a thing, so he just bowed. She left before he could utter a word. What had he done?

A servant came up to him from behind a curtain. 

"Follow me, if you please, sir."

There was a room readied for him. He sat on the bed. It was spacious, luxurious even. He scratched his beard. It was possible even to have a shaving in this House, was it? He was pretty sure there was a bathroom down the hall.

Something was off. He looked at the ring in his finger. It glimmered in red colors. He knew it’s name, Nerya, but had yet to come to grasp it's powers. Círdan, Lord of the Grey Havens who had given it to him had only hinted at them. 

”It is the ring of fire. Let it rekindle the spirits against the darkness”, he had said.

Mithrandir had taken it as an intimate gesture, a personal treasure, nothing more. a token from the one person who had given him encouragement, merely a haven lord but to his eyes so much more. He who had originally sent him to the monasteries of Gondor and the reason they called him a scholar in these parts.

His thoughts lingered on the king’s city Anor and the vaults, the long years of study in silence, modesty and bowing his head down to men who thought themselves to be his superiors. He was nothing, a pauper to be pitied upon. He was old and ragged and not to be involved with women out of his league. 

He fell asleep and during the night he dreamt strange and disturbing dreams.

###

For a few days Mithrandir did not see the Lady at all. There was a library at his disposal and he readily took advantage, head in a book and a loaf of break on a plate at his side. Took this chance to solitary study, a wandering scholar that he was. Or a wizard, as some men in Minas Anor had said. The Lord certainly had the means, and these people seemed to take pleasure in fulfilling the needs of a lonesome scholar.

He had meals and wine, even a smoke, he sat in a comfortable chair and read about the ancient kings as if they could shed light into the events of the present. For the first time in a long while he was clean-shaven and his grey hair was short. His robes and boots were clean. This would all cease to be when he would return to his travels in the wild, but for a short while it felt nice to be presentable.

That evening he received an invitation.

She awaited him at the balcony. Her expression was grave and sincere.

'I'm sorry. I had to make sure”, she said as she gestured her to sit down.

She had sent out people around to ask questions about him. Of course she had, a Lady in her position. These matters could not be trusted to be told just to anyone.

"In my heart, I trusted you", she said aloud, as if she had read his mind. 

"But I'm afraid these days it is not enough. Alas, I fear my judgement is failing.”

”I wouldn’t believe it, my lady.”

”Nothing is certain”, she said.

Mithrandir nodded. She was right. It was dangerous to trust strangers. The Last Home was a refuge, the last one of it’s kind. It could not be compromised at any cost, and anyone claiming knowledge of the happenings in the east could be a spy. 

He decided to speak frankly.

"We should ask help from overseas. From the powers of the West."

Her expression changed. For the first time she looked surprised, even scared, as she stared at the pilgrim. 

"That may prove…difficult”, she said.

"We should try." 

The Lady sat silent for a long while. Then shook her head.

"Who are you? Why do you bring these tidings?” she asked. Her voice was barely a whisper.

A quick flicker of emotions moved through his face. 

"I…do not know. I only know I was sent to Middle-earth with a purpose. There are four more in my brotherhood, but we have lost track of each other during the decades. For years now I have been traveling alone." 

He smiled, as if caught up in a memory. 

"I know the eldest of our order is currently traveling the southern kingdom. I meant to follow him, but then I wanted to study the vast lands and the peoples living between the mountains and the sea. As I told you, the men did not take well to my advice. Since then I have mostly been involved with elves. They led me here. What do you say? Should we ask help from the powers of the West?"

She shook her head again, slowly, as in giving up.

"Help will not come from the West. Unless…"

She looked up. And then she smiled. Her smile was like the first light of the spring, when the ice melts and the water drops from the roofs are radiant with all the colors of the spectrum. He fell quiet as he studied her face, a memory passing through him of something warm, a golden light. Fair green leaves of a tree in the early summer. Then it was gone.

"It may very well be that you are the help. The extended arm from the west", the Lady said quietly.

He nod slowly, as if he understood, although he did not.

"If I have a destiny, my lady, I have yet to grow to meet it. There is much for me to learn about Middle-earth.”

He diverted his yes. Her smile alone had been enough to send him over the edge.

"You will", said the Lady. She took his hand and squeezed it, and warmth went through his entire body as she said: 

"You will. And I will help you.”

###

The following morning Lord Elrond returned to Imladris and a great feast was planned for the evening. Mithrandir found himself taking refuge from the preparations in the nearby woods. It was as calm as a golden afternoon in the autumn could be. This evening he would talk to Elrond and receive answers to his request, as the Lady had promised to bring the matter to the Lord's attention.

Lord Elrond had travelled alone, his family had stayed behind with his wife's - the Lady’s daughter - relatives in the Woodland Realm east of the Misty Mountains. During the feast he sat on the throne and as soon as Mithrandir set his foot in the hall, he gestured him to approach. He greeted him with respect and asked him to sit in the high chair next to the throne. The Lady was nowhere to be seen.

"I hear you bring tidings from the West. I have discussed these tidings with Our Lady and I know what it is that troubles you. I am grateful for your insight in times like these."

Mithrandir bowed his head deep.

"I am very grateful to you and the Lady for listening and receiving me so well."

Elrond gazed upon him. His face was contemplative. During the meal he asked him:

"Do you know who she really is?"

For once Mithrandir was without words.

"I... am not sure. A high elf, one of the Firstborns and your mother-in-law. Surely she must have been a queen of a great realm at some stage, but what is she doing here, I cannot say."

"She is indeed one of great leaders of our kind. The last of the High Noldor, family of warriors and smiths. Daughter of Finarfin, sister to Finrod Felagund, who was Gondolin's ruler. Indeed, a distant cousin of mine."

"But how come she is still here and has not sailed into the West?"

He had to ask. Surely all the great Firstborns had crossed the sea aeons ago.

Lord Elrond smiled.

"She is proud. Once there was a ban placed by Mandos himself. The rebellious Noldor came to Middle Earth in pursuit of a treasure and to found great kingdoms. The ban was lifted from them because of the plea brought to them by my father, Eärendil. There had been a long and a futile fight against the Enemy Melkor, bringer of all evil things and stealer of the treasure, the jewels Silmarin.”

”The ban was lifted?”

”Grace was offered, but she would not take it”, Lord Elrond said. 

The expression on his face was grave, it was part fear, part admiration.

”She is the last one left of the ancient rebel generals. There were others too who did not want to go. They did not want to leave their beloved realms and Middle-earth that had become our home. At least, no yet."

So that was what she meant by saying it would be difficult to plead help from the powers of the West. The rebel queen, outcast. Full of bride, cunning and wisdom. Where was she now?

"I brought tidings from his spouse", Elrond said, as if he had guessed Mithrandir's wonderings. 

"I imagine she want's to be alone tonight. Things are sometimes... difficult in our midst. We are few in this family and have spent together a millenia”, he said with a faint smile on his face.

Strange enough, Mithrandir found he did not want to know more. 

"As to your tidings... we shall not waste time. We shall leave in the morning. Our Lady may find herself the Mistress of this House again for a short while. But it may well be we will decide to place her at the River Delta in the East of the Mountains. She has a... valuable asset that can help us there.”

Mithrandir glanced at his hand where the invisible ring was firmly in his finger.

"Sire, I may be aware of this asset."

”We do not speak of it openly, not even in here", Lord Elrond said and spoke of the matter no more. When the feast came to an end he asked:

"Will you ride with us tomorrow, then, to be our counsellor?"

"It would be an honor", Mithrandir said.

###

Mithrandir saw her again in the dim morning light as they readied themselves for the ride. It was chilly and the breath from the mouths of men and horses was visible in the air. He rubbed his hands together. Soon it would be warm enough as he would mount a horse. He would ride with Elrond and his two huntsmen who knew the mountain passes by heart. He was not an apt rider, but had been learning lately. More men and provisions would be sent after them, they needed time to prepare, but time could not be wasted in assessing how far the Enemy had reached it's hand. 

Mithrandir was standing on the ground, waiting for a stable boy. Elrond stood by his side, with a beautiful white mare.

"It may well be soon enough we learn who is the mastermind behind all this", Lord Elrond said as he mounted his horse.

"He may be one of the Nazgûls", Mithrandir said. "If he is, Elbereth help us all."

"We shall see", the Lady said as she appeared from the House. 

In her hand she held a traditional cup, a toast she passed to her son-in-law and to Mithrandir after him. She didn't look tired, but something in her composition told him she had not slept last night. Her expression was solemn and sincere and full on compassion as he took the cup from her hand.

"Fare thee well, Mithrandir", she said. "Take care."

As he bowed she took his head between her hands and looked deeply into his eyes.

"From this day on, we are siblings in arms, you and I", she said and placed a gentle kiss on his dry lips. "Do not forget me."

As if I ever could, he thought as she retreated to the House.

###

Lord Elrond began his campaign in the North. Soon the enemy-orc withdrew to their northernmost fortress and began pillaging the woods and the villages from there. Lord Elrond set his camp near the edge of the Great Greenwood, where there had been a semi-permanent settlement before. In those days the forest reached further to the West than nowadays; there were green woodlands where now there are but planes and fields. 

The campaign came soon to a halt. The elves were too few to take down the outermost forts of old Angmar. The best they could do was to hold their positions and protect the villagers, the few Humans that remained. From their ranks they also got some good carpenters for the fortification works of the camp. Mithrandir wandered often to the forest and met some oft he original Silvan elves there.

For Mithrandir those long winter months were enormously beneficial, because at last he could talk with Lord Elrond at length. His studies on the history of the Middle Earth had been cut short, but Lord Elrond's memory was long. He learned more of Noldor's hard years in the Middle Earth, their long war against the Enemy and the steady decline of the elven race in the East.

They sat in his tent in the evenings when all the work and noise of the camp had ceased. In the tradition of the northern tribes a fire was lit at the center of the hard earth floor, the smoke rising up from the hole above. They would have tea and supper and also a smoke of pipe-weed, that Mithrandir had introduced to Lord Elrond.

He also learned more about the unfortunate business with the rings. This he learned: almost three thousand years ago the Elven-smiths of Eregion forged the Master Rings with the help of the sorcerer Sauron, a great power in his own right. He was the master of dark arts, but so crafty and well-spoken that he could lure the Elven-smiths and their leader Celebrimbor into his web. 

Lady Galadriel was also involved with Eregion that time, but did not want to have anything to do with this Sauron-character and even tried to talk Celembrimbor out of the business. In fact she had played a crucial part in founding of the kingdom, but the Elven-smiths had taken the side of Sauron and she was forced to retreat to the other side the mountains via the mines of Moria, to the forest of Lórien.

It was not long before Sauron perfected the art of ring-making and forged the master ring to enslave all others. Celebrimbor became aware of his doings and the high elves hid the tree rings that had been given to them.

"For almost three hundred years there waged a war between Barad-Dûr and Eregion. Finally Celebrimbor fell and the Eregion was slain. I was forced to retreat and create a refuge in Imladris."

"You have done well in the refuge, my Lord", Mithrandir said.

"I know. And yet... I cannot forget the lights, the beauty of the valley of Eregion. My heart weeps at it's decline. Numeror conquered Sauron soon after and captured him - with well-known consequences - but my people were never again able to create a kingdom there."

During those long winter nights Mithrandir also learned that Celebrimbor had been in love with Lady Galadriel. This he didn't find surprising at all.

"He gave her the white ring, obviously. I'm afraid his affections were wasted on my mother-in-law. She loved Celebrimbor like a cousin he was, but this would not suffice him. I'm afraid this caused a lot of pain to him over the years", Lord Elrond said.

Mithrandir could't decide if it was soothing or disturbing that he was not the first nor the last man in Middle Earth to gaze upon her and find himself entangled in her spell. Aloud he said, as if speaking to himself: 

"I wonder how it is. For one so beautiful. To have everyone falling at your feet like that."

Elrond shook his head. "I do not know, my friend. I seriously do not know."

And finally, when all the lights had gone out and everyone else had gone asleep, Elrond revealed the secret: he himself carried the last of the three ring. It was the blue Vilya, given to him by Gil-Galad before his death.

"So there are three of us in this”, Mithrandir said.

"So it would seem. Knowledge of the use of the rings was lost with their maker. We can do many things with them, but there used to be more.” 

Lord Elrond seemed to think of his words before he continued.

”It may also be that the secret is not the ring, it is in the bearer. Perhaps we are not ready.”

Mithrandir was silent as he sat in the dark. 

"I did not tell my colleague. The elder of my covenant, Cúrunir. A precognition stopped me. Surely it was the right thing for me to do, that this information was not mine to give?” he said.

"Aye, it was the right thing to do."

"Very interested in the rings, he is", Mithrandir said, more to himself. Elrond did not say anything at that.

It was not that he didn’t trust Cúrunir. But the Narya was entrusted to him. If there was more to be learned from the Three, he wanted to be the one to find out.

 

II

Lórien

The fortress at the river delta towered ominously over the narrow path that led from the bay to the centre of the island. The rowers tended to the boats as Mithrandir started to walk up the hill with his belongings, taking support of his staff. This was at the borders of the realm of the Silvan elf-king Amroth, but his dwelling lay deeper in the Golden Forest and these were just the kingdom’s outer defenses.

At his arrival he was told that the Lady of Light had taken a walk and would be back soon. He wanted to take a look around himself and told the servant he would find the Lady on his own. He descended the narrow path and admired the tall trees of the island. As he looked around in the forest, he saw a white flash amongst the green woodland. There she was.

He halted and stayed beneath the trees, slightly hiding behind a birch trunk. She walked slowly through the meadow in the evening haze, her dress white as pale lilies of the marshland. She did not look up, but he saw her fair curly hair flowing freely onto her back. She did not wear an armor nor a cloak, only a simple white dress. She was so slender, so fragile walking amidst the landscape. Like a young woman she was not, not showing the strength hidden behind the thin veil that was her appearance.

The rebel queen, Lady of Light was here simply Galadriel.

Mithrandir looked at her from a far. He descended onto the shore in her footsteps just in time before she started back to her lodgings. 

"My lady." 

She halted at his call. She had known he stood there, of course, but had not spoiled him the pleasure of observing her. Perhaps it had been her intention.

She smiled. "Welcome, pilgrim. Has your journey here been pleasant?"

"Much more pleasant than the ventures I usually take on. Your rowers keep of ample speed and a smooth ride", the Pilgrim said and bowed to kiss her hand.

"I'm glad to hear that."

It was strange. The evening breeze was gentle, the light golden as the woman stood beside him. As he looked in to the far sky, the dark clouds were already gathering. The evening rain was coming, but it was not there yet. The Lady asked him to follow her. The tall trees stood guard as they walked together towards the compounds. From the woods afar he heard voices, but they were fading: guards, perhaps, on patrol.

"The residents of this island?" he asked.

"They keep to themselves", the Lady said. "What were you doing in these parts?" she asked.

"Alas, that's what I would like to discuss", he said as they made their way uphill. 

To his surprise she led him to a small cabin on the grounds of the fortress. It's windows were dark and beside it stood a mighty oak three. It's trunk was as bulky as a tower as it spread it's branches over the roof. Mithrandir could feels it's scent in the air as the first drops of the rain fell down from the sky.

Inside it was much more warm and intimate than he had anticipated. The few furniture - a table, a bench and a couple of chairs - were covered with thick, woven covers. There was a low rumble from the roof as the rain fell down, a gentle tapping from the window panes. The fire was burning and a servant had just brought two plates of warm broth. She sat down to keep him company, broke a bread for the two of them to share as was her people's custom.

"I don't usually eat this late, but I have had a trying day", she said. "The messenger came up this morning. There were… disturbances on our borders.” 

The broth was hearty and there was a hint of spice not known to him. It was special, a taste of a far away land. She had no doubt had it served especially.

"Are you sure they were invaders? Not just some random looters", he asked. The Lady shook her head.

"I know it is just a matter of time before we are wiped out. This secluded tribe has been kind enough to show support but in time they too will give in. And I'm not ready back yet."

She shivered as she sat there. A seagull cried outside over the river. This was definitely not a place for the high kings and mighty queens. This was a simple fortress with modest compounds and grounds, safe enough for it's few residents.

"I like it here", she said in a distant voice. "Over the last centuries I have learned to value the simple pleasures of nature over the glamour of kings' halls. It's a beautiful place. And of a crucial strategic importance."

She looked straight at him. And suddenly, a light came from the cracks of the window and made he free-flowing hair shine like gold. She was as severe as she was gracious. He felt strange. 

There was something in her. So beautiful and yet so frightening. Not like in the midst of the regalia of Lord Elrond’s throne room, but something far more simple. If her beauty was but a charm, he did not know. But it really seemed to come from within, as if it was only for him to see. He cleared his throat and said:

"You need arms, men and supplements, if you plan to keep the delta against the southern invaders."

"On the contrary. We need but one. You."

He was dumbstruck. She seemed sure of her words, but he doubted as he said:

"My lady… my power is but a modest conjuring. I'm a good speaker, that I can admit, but that's about it."

"Ah, but you are wrong. And you know it", she said.

He hesitated.

”There is an other thing. We both posses something that is not of our own.”

She nodded, knew what he meant. 

”I was hoping to find out more.” 

”I suspected as much. Tell me that you have also had them. The dreams”, she said.

She was so close now, her lips only an inch away from his ear. He sat there undecidedly. 

"I admit I have had one… a recurrent dream. In which we stand against a frightful being. A red eye. I do not recall it very well. I only remember… fear”, he said.

He was very self-conscious as he said those things, but she nod her head assuringly.

"I, too, have had this dream." 

And now he looked, in all his modesty that made him need to keep his head down and to be humble, he really dared to look. There lay a trinket on her white throat. In a string she carried a ring that was ancient, darkened by stains of time and worn, just like his’. He touched the ring that he had put in his pocket for the duration of the travel. The metal was cool, but he felt like a shiver go through his whole body as he let go.

"Why did you not talk about this in the Last Home?" he asked in bewilderment.

"The Lord knows", the Lady said. "But he was not sure about you. We did not know who you were." 

She leaned closer and he almost shut his eyes, as she was so near, he dared not look straight into her. 

"I still don't know. But the rings are connected.”

The Lady drew back and sighed. ”

In the old days there were many such treasures. My people used them for mending and building things. But as for this ring, it was originally given me for safe-keeping. As Lord Elrond must have told you, the knowledge of their use is lost with it's maker."

She did not mention by name the master who had forged the rings.

Conversation turned to other things, as if she was afraid of having said too much. She opened the window to let the last rays of the sun in. The wind was now still and in the purple sunlight the small waves in the river glistened like dozens of diamonds. Mithrandir was almost blinded by the brightness. The air carried a low humming from the waterfront. 

"We will talk more about this tomorrow. I will send for you at the dawn. We will walk in the woods. There is a place by the waterfall that is close to my heart and that I want to show you. But it will take the whole day to get there. ”

She extended her hand and he kissed it. "The century will show you to your quarters."

"Until tomorrow, then", he said.

###

The next day they journeyed the five leagues to the river Nimrodel. On their way they encountered some of the Silvan elves of Lórien, but did not divert to the heart of the forest where Galadriel’s husband Celeborn was staying with lord Amroth.

”Celeborn protects our people, my duty is to protect the forest”, she said curtly. 

This was the first time she spoke of Celeborn in Mithrandirs presence. He liked to think it was because she wanted to keep him for herself, not something to be shared with all members of the mighty rulers of the Silvan elves.

Their travel was light in the soft forest floor. She was bare feet as always. He was mostly silent and just wandered at the beautiful woodlands around them. The trunks and branches were white and grey and the golden leaves of the Golden Forest truly deserved their fame.

They spoke of people they had known, and lost. Lives were so easily lost these days.

As the evening drew near they were finally there. The river Nimrodel sang in the mild wind on the shores. Golden leaves fell in the water and were carried away towards the sea. They sat by the river and shared a light meal of delicious cakes she had brought with her.

Galadriel was silent for a long time, just staring at the water. Then she spoke:

”This river leads up to the mountains, near the eastern exit of the great dwarf-mines of Moria. I was forced once to flee through them because of an… unfortunate affair.”

Mithrandir thought he understood.

"Who was he?"

She sat quietly for a while. "A man that used to love me.”

He nodded. He had heard the story from Lord Elrond.

”This forest is full of magic. It is not just nature that is at work here”, she said.

Galadriel looked deeply into Mithrandir’s eyes, and in his mind’s eye he saw a vision of a green stone with a pin and silver wings of an eagle.

”He gave me Elessar, a jewel, one of the many jewels granted to me over the years. But this one had the power to transform it’s surroundings as beautiful as the land of Valinor once was.”

”That truly is a royal gift.”

”It was the lesser of the two. In fact as we made peace he gave me another, as you very well know.”

She went quiet once again.  
 ”You must be happy you two made up before his death.”

”I find myself weary from the walk. I shall swim now”, Galadriel said and turned his back on him.

Before he could say anything, she dived straight into the pool in her simple white gown.

”Come out here, the water is divine”, she shouted as she splashed the water in his direction.

He shook his head in amazement. Cautiously he went down and dipped his toes into the water. It was ice cold.

”Maybe not”, he said. It sufficed him merely to watch her swim, her golden hair spreading behind her like a trail.

As she rose from the water he became acutely aware of himself, a being of flesh, and the part of himself that was male. He couldn’t have helped it even if he wanted to.

She came to him and whispered into his ear:

”Nenya. The name of the stone I’m carrying. You, a ring-bearer, deserve to know.”

Her breath in his ear sent a shiver down to his spine. She covered herself with a light travel-cloak she had brought with her. She did not seem to be cold.

”What now?” he asked her.

”Nothing. We wait. The darkness rises, we fight back. The elves fade.” 

She took his hand.

”You should stay here. Help us defend our keep. Lord Amroth will bid you welcome and my Sire Celeborn is excellent company in conversation. You would never have to be homeless again.”

He shook his head.

”I’m afraid it is not my destiny to have a permanent place to stay”, he said. 

”Also I feel, that if I’m to learn about Middle-earth, I must travel far and wide, meet of all kinds of people, leaders and elders and common people alike.”

”But surely this” - she gestured at the Golden Forest - ”is the place to be.”

”For you, my lady. You have your family here. But surely there must be something else I can do”, Mithrandir said. ”Lord Elrond said something before I left. That the secret to the rings may not lay entirely on the stones but in the bearers. We should find out.”

”I’m really not sure…”

”You spoke of dreams. Surely they have something to do with. this. We should try and find out together.”

”If I am to play a role in this fight, something other than keeping this hold, I must contemplate on that.”

And that had to suffice for him. There was nothing more he could do at this point.

”There is a watchtower near this place. Actually it is not a tower, but it’s still somewhere high. And hard to notice. You’ll see.”

He could have sworn the was mischief in her voice. Soon he found out what she had been talking to, when a light rope ladder was thrown down from a tree. So he would sleep up in a tree that night. It seemed the wonders of Middle-earth never ceased.

 

###

She left at night. Business at the borders, he was told. As morning light came, he walked by the river. He caught his reflection on the clear water. For a short while he had thought she was offering him something else than just a chance to help her protect her homeland. What could he have been thinking?

He had heard of princes of Men fall for scullery maids. He had heard of elven lords who had eloped with human females. He knew of queens whose hearts were won by their knights or plain traveling jesters.But never had there been a member of the brotherhood of istari who would have dared to become intimate with the Firstborns. He was well out of his mind, mad to even think about such a possibility.

The Lady had made herself clear. They wanted different things.

She was not of his kind. She had so much higher provenance, was so much fairer than he. She remembered her days in the West, he did not. But as she had laid her fingers on his face, he had felt as if he had started to remember. A warm place, maybe a home, something that he had never experienced in Middle Earth.

A feeling he would have to forget.

He heard footsteps behind him. "Sire, we must go at once. The orcs are on the move", a guard said.

”I’m coming”, he said and left the riverside.


	2. The Travel

III

 

Centuries following Mithrandir’s brief stay in Lórien were busy. The darkness gained more foothold, the orcs multiplied in the Misty Mountains and kept attacking the Dwarves. The Ringwraiths attacked the kingdoms of Men over and over again. Hard times weighted heavily on backs of the peoples of Middle-earth and there was much grieve and loss.

 

During this time Mithrandir traveled far and wide and gained the trust of the dwarf-lords. In his travels he also stayed with the strange little folk, periannath, that he had come to know from before. He familiarized himself with the lands of the Northern and the Southern kingdoms, Arnor ja Gondor. He stayed in the midst of elves for a long time and learned about them. There was one place he avoided in his travels: the golden wood of Lóthlorien.

 

He sometimes felt a passing sensation of her presence. In those moments he was sure that he ring _Narya_ in his finger shone brighter. But then the sensation was gone, and he was alone once again. These occasions he tried to forget quickly. He wandered in the woods with the elves, ran errantry, enjoyed the hospitality of his dwarf-friends and studied their metal works, gathered information about dragons. But his heart was not in it. He went on day by day thinking of a woman with a golden-hair.

 

It was not that he didn't want to go back to Lórien. The price was simply too high.

 

In the year 2063 of The Third Age he was staying with dwarves of Ered Luin. He was on his way to wine and dine with his friends as he received a letter. The letter came by the way of traveling merchants that had come home from a trip to the great dwarf-dwelling Khazad-Dûm. It was addressed to him and sealed with a charm. 

 

He received it from the travel-weary messenger and hurriedly hid it in his sleeve. He had great friends in the dwarves but this, this was a message to be read in the privacy of his chamber.

 

He did not recognize the hand-writing, of course, but as soon he had laid his fingers on the envelope he had known who the letter was from. The sensation inside him grew to a warm glow as he read the lines. The letter was from Lady Galadriel.

 

" _My dearest traveller in the far._

 

_I send thee a greeting from the Woodland Realm of Lórien. May the grace of Valar be with you._

 

_As you surely were aware of, there are things I can not discuss even a charmed letter. For long have I been responsible for my people's happiness under the tall silver trees of Lóthlorien, far too near the Dark Fort of the Great Greenwood. Elbereth knows that I am in need of a counsel. The orc’s have withdrawn once again, but there’s something in the air, something in the water that worries me. I can't quite get a grasp of it._

 

_There is one more things that troubles me._

 

_I hope I'm not too bold, but I feel there is a connection between the two of us that cannot be ignored any longer._

 

_The last time we met a long time ago, you spoke of traveling to other countries and meeting the leaders and elders of other peoples. At the same time I longed for a solitary confine in my cabin, finding an answer of my own._

 

_I have studied the subject thoroughly. Now I see these two do not exclude each other. Leaving; and staying for a while._

 

_I was hoping to tie one more bond, with you, my kind Mithrandir._

 

_For we are bound already. The rings that we carry have the power to touch each other, even from a far. So do not be frightened as I extend my thoughts, my heart to you at night, as I am worried and the shadows grow dark between the trees._

 

_The long nights I lay in my cabin I thought, if only I could ask one thing, it would be this: do not turn your face from me as I seek this small comfort in the difficult times. Allow me to think of you from time to time._

 

_But now I know I would have asked too little. I would not have asked what I needed._

 

_This is what I ask: will you come?_

 

_I know it is not my place to ask this of you, but I ask it anyway.”_

 

The letter was signed: _Yours faithfully, G._

 

For a long time Mithrandir sat in the edge of his bed, the letter in his hands. He felt like a lightning had struck him. Even after a day’s battle he had never felt so raw. He looked at his hand and found it trembling. 

 

He closed his eyes. A recurring thought, a memory of a golden tree, no more than a memory of a dream. A vision that was within him, a hope, a purpose. How does one answer to such plea? There were so many riddles, so many obstacles. 

 

But the threat from Dol Gûldur was to be taken seriously. It was time that he act.

 

Finally he sat on his desk and took a quill in hand.

 

_"Dear Lady. I know what it is that you fear. I have now duties elsewhere but at the first possible opportunity I shall return to Dol Gûldur and try to make out if it is the very same foe that threatened us the last time._

 

_As for your wish - I shall grant it to you, and grant it gladly. For do not be alarmed if I do the same, if I try to reach for you in my mind. I know it is not only this world that you tread, but another, one full of light. I will see you there if I can._

 

_G."_

 

Gandalf was the name peoples of the North had given him. He sealed the envelope and gave it for the messenger to deliver. The next day he set out to do his most dangerous task in Middle-earth so far.

 

###

 

That year Gandalf went to Dol Gûldur for the first time. He went unprepared, not quite knowing what he would face here, and it was all but good luck that he did for had he stopped to reconsider, he might not have the courage to go there at all. He found the fortress empty. Whoever had had his lair there must have fled. It was clear he didn’t want to be discovered, yet. And he had just slipped from his grasp.

 

He had suspected as much. Even when empty the place was full of danger and horrors, nightmares that came to him even as he was wide awake. Only with great difficulty he crossed the blood-soaked rocks as he turned to the other side of the forest. The trees were now dark and the branches hung heavy on his way. He survived with small injuries, really.

 

It was another thing entirely that would prove to be his final undoing in the Middle-earth. 

 

He reached Lórien and found that Lord Celeborn was not there. Lord Amroth had been lost to the sea for over eighteen years ago and from that on Celeborn and Galadriel had more or less ruled the realm of Lórien, but had not taken up the titles of a queen and a king.

 

They met on a forest path where she had come to receive him. She stood to greet him, in her customary white dress, her eyes sincere.

 

”You are here”, she said.

 

”I’m here.”

 

They did not seem to need words. Only now did he realize how close they had grown for almost a thousand years. It had happened gradually, almost without them noticing it - indeed, without them having to meet in between. 

 

She took his hand. His beard was long again, for he had grown accustomed to wearing it under his belt in the fashion of the dwarves. She did not seem to mind as she stroke his beard approvingly.

 

”I am older now”, he said in a rough voice.

 

”May I remind that you speak to someone who is older than the moon.”

 

She chuckled; really, what was he thinking? The years meant nothing for the likes of them. For them, ancient history could have happened yesterday: a memory of a touch, an encounter that was unlike any other.

 

”I have arranged us a private place to talk to.”

 

As they walked he told her of what he had found in Dol Gûldur.

 

”I suspect our enemy has fled to the east.”

 

”The we shall have to find him.”

 

”We?”

 

She looked at him. 

 

”I find I have had a change of hearts.”

 

He almost stopped. He glanced at her warily.

 

”All in good time.”

 

There was a servant waiting for them by a small campfire. There was a rug and cushions in the ground, tea and broth. He was hungry and the Lady watched him delightedly as he ate. They talked long about the affairs of the North.

 

”I met your cousin Radagast. Most amusing chap.”

 

He laughed. Finally she bid the servant good night and as the fire went down the night covered them like a blanket.

 

"For a long time I was afraid to use it”, she said. ”Then I started experimenting. Planted the _mallorn_ -trees. Strengthened our borders. By now I suspect it would take Sauron himself to make the borders of Lórien fall.” 

 

Her white ring was now glowing faintly in the dark.

 

”Ever wondered why the white stone was for water?” he asked.

 

”It was originally made for me, I guess that’s the reason it is white”, she said hesitantly.

 

The white stone, protection. The blue stone, healing. He thought of all the days he had spent in the Last Home safe and at rest, a healing unmatched by anything in Middle-earth.

 

And then there was the red stone. Hope.

 

”Some guardians we are against the dark powers”, she said. ”Weak and without military might.”

 

”It will prove to be enough.”

 

They stayed the night on a bare _flet_ in a tree near the river Nimrodel. This was her realm and she could make others see only what she wanted them to see, nothing more. There was a thin veil around them, the same veil that had maybe once covered the ill-fated lovers Amroth and Nimrodel of the waterfall.

 

She lay beside him. The had the cushions and the rug from the camp and Gandalf’s grey cloak covered them in the chill night air. She touched his cheek, soft cool fingers agains bare skin. He found that he was out of breath.

 

"Is this our doing? Or could it be the rings themselves that act as a catalyst?” he whispered.

 

"You mean why I love you?” she asked in a low voice.

 

Gandalf could not speak. She kissed him slowly, kindly.

 

”That I can answer, it is you, not the ring.” 

 

For a moment her face grew serious.

 

”Why my heart turned to you it the first place, in the Lord's House? That I cannot say. I have thought about it, though. With Lord Elrond I already had mutual bonds of blood and kinship. With you…”

 

It was as she decided then it was not the time to talk. She kissed him again, more deeply this time. 

 

He dared not touch her at first, but she took his hands and guided him. Held his hand and did not let go, even though he hesitated, he wanted her so much but could not, he shouldn't.

 

”With you I have something else.”

 

This was wrong. 

 

This was right.

 

His brotherhood demanded purity and she knew it. But this thing they had, it felt so powerful, as if it could change the fabric of the reality itself. Surely this must have been part of the plan before the beginning of all things in heaven and earth.

 

She laughed a little. ”Look at me. Look at us. Hiding in the dark as if we were some servants behind the backs of our masters.” 

 

At least, he thought it was laughter. Maybe she cried. Their fingers were intertwined and she was breathing oh so close.

 

”Isn’t it like that for all of us?” he asked in a low voice.

 

”For all of us Eru’s children, yes”, she said.

 

He leaned his head onto her touch. She pulled his robe over his head and kissed his naked chest and it was almost too much. He suddenly became uncomfortably conscious of his body that did not resemble the body of an elven warrior, in fact was nothing like it. Certainly even when she was so beautiful, her body so perfect. But Galadriel caressed every wrinkle and scar thoroughly and kissed him over and over again until Gandalf ceased to think of anything else.

 

An as she took him between her thighs, the first time any woman had done anything like that, mind you, the sensation was so intense, more so than anything he had ever experienced, this was pleasure beyond anything, this was comfort and grace, piety and reverence, he adored her and would drown in this moment had he not been so completely in his body that was now inside her. 

 

She was the most breathtaking, most dangerous creature alive.

 

"I did not know", was all he could say.

 

He had not known. But he learned more, as the night went by.

 

###

 

They would travel together, just the two of them. Galadriel didn’t offer any explanation to her generals nor one was being asked of her. The generals of Lórien did as they were told and provided a light boat for them to travel with. The first part of their journey eastward would follow the Great River. They had to travel with light baggage, for where the great plains and fields once lay between the river and the Dark Mountains, was now a desolate marshland. They would not have use of a horse even if they could take one with them.

 

It could be dangerous. Would be dangerous.

 

”It’s not that I don’t trust my scouts to do the work”, Galadriel said as they pedaled down the river. ”But in the passes of the Black Mountains there are horrors our soldiers are not prepared to meet.”

 

”Or maybe you just wanted to get rid of your generals for a change”, Gandalf said.

 

”Hush”, Galadriel said and plashed water upon him with her pedal.

 

Gandalf couldn’t help but have a feeling he would pay heavily for the indulgence of these days.

 

Oh but were they ample. It was spring and the earth and the air were cold. At night they went ashore and slept under the boat, side by side, their arms and feet entangled. She would talk to him of spring and the wakening of nature. She was like a light refreshing spring rain in his arms, the earth that flourished and that he penetrated as he became more and more alive himself. She would lay under him and he would bury his face on her neck, they would breathe the same air, their mouths, their bodies one.

 

It went on for a week, seven days in a golden haze.

 

One night they lay together and watched the crescent moon travel slowly across the night sky. They had made love that night, as soon as they had set to rest, as had became their habit. He lay in her arms and she moved her hand over his bare skin. He closed his eyes.

 

Surely this was heaven.

 

She told him stories, about the lovers Nimrodel and Amroth and how their sad fate had deeply moved her. There was longing in her eyes when Galadriel mentioned the sea.

She didn’t discuss her marriage to Celeborn with him, ever, but he gathered that they shared a deep attachment and understanding. This he didn’t mind. It was enough that he should be in this position, vulnerable and clueless, let alone he should be jealous of her.

 

###

 

The wild impenetrable marshland lay before them. They would have to try and cross it. The weather was already warmer, dragonflies flew in the air and there were small dark butterflies fluttering amongst the little white marsh-flowers. They had hid the boat under the reeds and now walked over the rocks and the brown and green moss. Their food was scarce and they considered hunting, but gave it up as too distractive to their mission.

 

From first their progress was slow. They walked during the daytime and slept at night under Gandalf’s grey cloak. Galadriel had taken a liking of the cloak. She used to wear it on her shoulders as she climbed on top of him at nights.

 

The fourth day of their walk was gray and humid. The air was heavy and the sky depressing. They were tired, distracted and did not speak much. Danger was upon them before either of them had time to prepare.

 

At first glance it looked like a black cloud. That glance was the only one they got before it hit them. A specter, ice cold and lethal, full of dark magic. A trap set by their enemy, or something that had grown and fed from the dead marshes? They would never know. For now it stroke Gandalf with a spell and it was only for the instant counterstrike from Galadriel that it didn’t kill him immediately.

 

Gandalf fell into the ground and saw a shape, helmet and an armor, attacking Galadriel. He didn’t have a staff, not to mention a sword, but he had his long knife. With the knife and a spell he came to Galadriel´s aid. The specter screamed horribly and turned again to face him. There was malice unmeasurable in it’s gaze, a terrible hunger and terror that would stop the heart in his chest had he had time to feel it.

 

He was cold, so cold, it was like all the sorrow and death of the endless centuries had fell upon his back, but he stood his ground. He raised his hand for the final blow. The specter screamed again and charged forward. He took advantage of it’s momentum and diverted, then struck the knife on it’s back.

 

The ground was trembling and a sound came out like distant thunder. The specter faded and then vanished.

 

It was quiet again.

 

Only then did Gandalf realize that the Lady was laying lifeless in the ground.

 

He lifter her from to ground and supported her head. It was fortunate her neck was not broken. A trail of blood dripped from her nose. She was breathing, but only superficially.

 

Despair almost took over him. How could he have ever agreed to this? Of all the bad ideas he had had from the start, this journey had been the worst. 

 

He carried her to the safest place he could find, under a mangled pine-tree that had lost most of it’s needles. The tree and a rock provided a little shelter.

 

They had had whole two weeks together. Two weeks, and now he was about to lose her forever.

 

He had no medicine, no provisions. He could not use his ring at all. He sang all the healing spells he could remember and when he run out, he prayed the Great Powers, but they would not hear him.

 

And as he sat there it dawned to him: he could not carry out his purpose in Middle-earth, whatever it was, not like this. Not when he would trade the whole Middle-earth and everything in it for the life of this woman.

 

It was evening before she stirred. She opened her eyes. Then she gasped and grasped his sleeve. 

 

"I had a terrible dream. The Great Eye, lidless... the pale king..." 

 

"You must rest, my lady", Gandalf said.

 

He stayed there until she drifted off to sleep again. It could not be helped, she needed real food. He would have to go hunting. He placed a kiss on her forehead and left.

 

There was not much game to be found. He set some simple traps made of strings for the avians. He would check them later. From the pond caught some blind fish with his knife. When prepared and fried, it tasted of mud, but seemed to strengthen her.

 

After she had eaten, she rest her head and smiled.

 

"Some burden I have become to you."

 

”You? Never, my lady.”

 

She sighed.

 

"I shall regain my strength, and we will continue."

 

###

 

After the attack, they were able to proceed only for a short while at a time. He often had to support her as they crossed difficult cross country. She had a bottle of healing beverage, _miruvor_ , that proved to be of great help to brother of them. They rested often and continued as soon they could.

 

The days grew even warmer. After many hard days of travel they finally reached the foot of the mountains. For many days they looked for the sings, comings and goings of strange people crossing the lands, behavior of birds and beasts. They found marks and engravings in the stones, but could not read them. It was enough that they sent an unsavory feeling down their spines upon touching them.

 

”There is something evil at bay in these mountains”, Galadriel said as she lifted a dead lark from the stone.

 

”Something at sleep so deep in the ground that I can barely sense it. Perhaps it is that all we can do for now is watch.”

 

Gandalf nodded.

 

"Gondor will keep an eye on them. We will keep an eye out for them.”

 

There was nothing left to do for them except to turn back.

 

###

 

As they crossed the borders of Gondor they were in for a surprise. A message was awaiting Mithrandir in watchtower’s cabin. His First of Order, Curunir had heard of them traveling to the south and would receive them in the city of Anor. This was welcome news to both of the travelers as they were weary after the wild.

 

Cúrunir had taken up a residence while he had business in the city and offered then hospitality there. His house was spacious and beautifully furnished, full of books and precious artifacts. He listened closely to their tidings of Dol Gûldur and Barad-Dur. He shared their view on the Nazgûls having retreated to Mordor.

 

"I suspected as much, and this confirms the findings of the good people here. They have a keen eye at happenings in the eastern border."

 

The fire was lit and they dined and conversed amicably. Cúrunir was a good host, but Gandalf had not had to exercise his skills in having civilized talk for a long time and thought himself hopelessly uncouth and old-fashioned, and while Galadriel seemed taken with his knowledge and wisdom, she seemed wary of him throughout the diner.

 

The next day they changed quarters to a nearby inn. Lady Galadriel went to visit a noble family of whom she was a distant relative to and told she would be back in the inn by evening. 

 

Gandalf went on stroll on the rampages with Cúrunir and noticed that the city had changed much since he had last visited there. Gandalf and Cúrunir talked about the affairs of their brotherhood - the two blue wizards had not been seen for centuries - and of all things heaven and earth. Together they gazed at the vast lands between the city and the distant mountains.

 

As the started to descent, Cúrunir stopped him.

 

"Watch your step. As one of flesh, we are not immune to temptation.” 

 

”I do not quite understand”, said Gandalf.

 

”I have heard the great Elven-smith, Celebrimbor took quite a liking to this woman. If the rumors are true, even the Feänor himself did the same.”

 

"Fear not", Gandalf said. "But I thank thee, my friend." 

 

Cúrunir touched his shoulder gently and went on his way. Gandalf remained standing for a moment. Absently he stroke the red-stoned ring in his finger. 

 

###

 

In the evening he and Lady Galadriel sat in a small drawing room at the inn. A servant brought them wine and they toasted to their final supper together. Galadriel would return to Lórien, Gandalf had agreed would follow Cúrunir to Isengard, for he wanted to show him progress he had made there. The candles were burning and their lights duplicated in the glass-windows.

 

”And shall we travel together once again?”

 

Her eyes were radiant with smile as she took Gandalf’s hand. Full of hope, for both of them. Gandalf felt as if a cold fist turned inside him.

 

”Who knows”, he said. 

 

There was hesitation in his voice that Galadriel immediately noticed. She glanced at him, surprised. Gandalf drew breath. This was the moment he had been dreading for. The smile died in her eyes.

 

”You don’t want to, then?” she asked blankly.

 

”My lady…”

 

”I see.”

 

They did not need to speak of why and how Gandalf had come to his decision. He knew that each of them considered the cost. She could barely hold back the anger in her voice when she said:

 

”See that you do not make decisions that will make you regret the years you have lost in the end.”

 

”I try not to, my lady.”

 

They went both silent. Her eyes were now glimmering with held-back tears, the eyes that were as deep as the deepest wells of memory. But he was used to them by now, he did not have to divert his gaze but could look straight upon her. He could be completely honest with her. He had to be completely honest with her, for she knew his heart and he could never deceive her even if he wanted to. Even if it was to spare her feelings.

 

”I shall miss you”, Galadriel said finally. 

 

”I shall miss you too”, Gandalf said.

 

”I shall not miss your bloody pipe”, she said and laughed.

 

Her laugher was infectious. Gandalf chuckled and smiled as he squeezed her hands, even if he felt more like crying.

 

"The Watchful Peace. This is it, then?" Galadriel asked.

 

"For the time being, yes.”

 

In her eyes Gandalf read a question that needed not to be spoken aloud. They rose and went to his bedroom. It was a strange feeling having her on a soft bed after the wilderness. And if this was to be the last time, either of them didn’t want to think about it.

 

###

 

Gandalf rode to Isengard with Cúrunir and stayed here for several months. Cúrunir’s dwelling was a remarkable place indeed. Mounted by the Númeroreans, it was black as obsidian and reached great highs in the middle of a beautiful valley. They would walk in the parks by day and Gandalf would take advantage of Cúrunir’s extensive library in the nights. Cúrunir was friendly with the horse-men who had come to live in he nearby lands some time ago. The merchants would trade fine food and wines with furs and raw-materials gathered from Cúrunir’s lands.

 

One night they dined in Cúrunir’s throne room. The host had had more to drink than usual. Gandalf’s gaze kept wandering outside the windows. He couldn’t help but wonder where she was and what she was doing.

 

”You are very quiet tonight, Gandalf”, Cúrunir said.

 

”I’m thinking of the great northern road. Will it be accessible this time of year”, Gandalf said.

 

It had been a long and rainy fall. Cúrunir circled his finger around his goblet.

 

”I had not intended to discuss this, but…” 

 

”Anything, my friend.”

 

”I can see, my friend, that you have kept a secret from me.”

 

Gandalf froze. So Cúrunir had found out about the Three. He faced his inquisitive gaze.

 

”The servants of the Wall’s Inn are easily bribed”, Cúrunir continued. ”I suspected that there was something going on between you two, but nothing could have prepared me to hearing that you, Mithrandir, would share a bed with her.”

 

He looked at him and his eyes were now ice cold, his voice severe and judgmental. Gandalf blushed. It was all he could do but to prevent Cúrunir finding out how relieved he was. He tried to look ashamed.

 

”What say you? You have the gall to make love to that woman, who is married and not of our kind at all”, Cúrunir demanded.

 

”Forgive me, Cúrunir”, Gandalf said. ”i… erred.”

 

”I do not have to tell you what the rules of our order are. Not to meddle with the personal lives of the people of Middle-earth and certainly not their women.”

 

”Lady Galadriel is not ”their woman”.”

 

”Even if she were, are there not prostitutes in he city of Minas Anor that could fulfill these… needs, if you have them?”

 

Gandalf rose, enraged.

 

”Say that again, and I will kill you.”

 

”There, there”, Cúrunir soothed him. ”I will no have this argument with you over an elf.”

 

Gandalf just stood there, shaking with rage. He would leave this place immediately. He breathed, trying to calm down.

 

”Forgive me”, he said. ”The fault was mine. It may be all the same to you, but it will not happen again. She and I have parted ways.”

 

”See to that you have”, Cúrunir said and left the matter at that.

 

That night Gandalf went on his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon somewhat contradicts itself concerning the White Ring: some sources say it was given to Galadriel only for safe-keeping, other note that Celebrimbor forged it especially for her.


	3. Promises

IV

 

_Year 2463 The Third Age_

 

The Watchful Peace had lasted for almost four hundred years. It had ended when Sauron had returned to Dul Gûldur with increased strength. Lord Elrond made the call, and the wise of the Middle-earth formed a council. That would be the heads of _eldar,_ Galadriel and Elrond himself, and the _istari_ , or what was left of them, namely Cúrunir, Gandalf and Radagast. 

 

Elrond had suggested they meet at the Last Home. Cúrunir, who the people of the north had come to call Saruman, was elected to be the leader by Elrond, Mithrandir and Saruman himself. Galadriel and Radagast voted Mithrandir, but lost. The council was named The White Council after it’s leader.

 

The vale was full of warm, yellow autumn light. They were seated on a sunny porch from where there was a view towards the misty mountains. Gandalf stood up with the rest of the party as Lady Galadriel entered the porch under the oak-tree branches. There they were: three wizards, two elves, gathered together for the first time.

 

Galadriel spoke.

 

"A shadow grows in the east. A fear I can neither name nor touch. We should act now before it gets hold of the lands beyond Mirkwood. That is what they call the Great Greenwood these days, for foul creatures dwell in it's depths."

 

"Act now, and risk revealing ourselves to our enemy? While we have the lower hand? Should we not gather more information first and then act, when we are fully prepared?"

 

Saruman was adamant. Gandalf was frustrated. Galariel lowered her gaze as he looked upon her. Things were quickly taking a bad turn. Saruman eyed suspiciously them both.

 

"Unless you, my dear Gandalf, have an other insight on the matter?" he asked.

 

Gandalf shook his head. Now was not the time to oppose Saruman. Perhaps he was right and they should wait. Perhaps he had been right all along.

 

"I would not want to risk a war", he continued. "For the peoples of Middle-earth the times are hard as they are. The crop has been bad this year and the year before, there is a decease running rampage in the south... I say we let things develop on their own. It's better we do not interfere."

 

""Mind your own business. Take care of things inside your own borders". Is this what this Council is for? If I'm not mistaken, Lord Elrond, this Council was to be for the good of the whole of Middle-earth", Galadriel said.

 

"Of course we care about Middle-earth", Saruman said exasperatedly. "We care by not making rushed decisions."

 

So it was decided that they gather more knowledge about the enemy. Gandalf and Galadriel glanced at each other. In other words, the Council wouldn't do anything.

 

###

 

Gandalf found he needed space and left on a walk in nearby woods. After a while he noticed he was being followed. A flash of white in the shade of trees. He stopped and waited.

 

It had been a couple of hundred of years since they had last been been intimate, but as she approached he could sense every breath, feel every heartbeat in her body, for the rings were at work and they did not need words at all, not anymore. The could speak straight into each other's minds.

 

"He doesn't know?" Galadriel asked him silently.

 

"Yes and no. He knows about us. He doesn't now about the Three."

 

"I'm glad" she said, did not elaborate.

 

”So what do you think of our council? What chances we have of success”, Gandalf said.

 

”With Saruman being all but openly hostile towards me? I cannot say. For a fear we lead a dangerous path, keeping secrets from him. We cannot discuss the Three, even in the House of Elrond.”

 

She paused.

 

”Especially inside the walls of the House of Elrond. Too many attachments for me, there, too many bonds.”

 

"How have you been?" Gandalf asked.

 

She smiled.

 

"So and so.”

 

She looked at him, and for the first time the was such sadness in her eye that he had to divert his gaze.

 

”I yearn for the sea, for the lands of Aman. I shall stay here for the time being. But when the time comes, I’ll leave.”

 

He nodded. There was not much he could say.

 

”When you next come to Lórien, I have a surprise for you. A devise of my own making. I have found it to be of great comfort for me during the long years without tidings of those whom I love”, Galadriel said.

 

She paused again for a moment.

 

"Well, some of the visions are comforting, some of them are disturbing. You shall see."

 

"If I ever set my foot on a Lórien, yes", he said evasively. He dared not to think of Galadriel's family. Elrond's sons he had met during his travels, but not their sister or their mother and certainly not Galadriel's husband Celeborn.

 

"I was hoping we could all be friends. Suffice to say it's been long enough since our... expedition to South", she said.

 

"I doubt all the time in the world will not be enough for me to forget that", he wanted to say, but settled for kissing her hand and biding her farewell.

 

###

 

Eventually she had her way, of course. Gandalf visited Lórien and became friends with Lord Celeborn, who was every bit as wise and compassionate as he had feared. Lord Celeborn had silver hair and he was as tall as his Lady. He too had a warm smile. It was strange, but knowing Celeborn made him feel he also understood Galadriel better. The two had been together for such a long time they had started to resemble each other. No wonder Gandalf could not help loving Celeborn, for in him he saw the familiar traits and characteristics of Galadriel.

 

In Lórien he received a new cloak and a staff a gift. He also looked into Galadriel's mirror and spent many nights working for it to be less volatile, mostly unsuccessfully of course. The mirror drew it's powers from Galadriel's spirit and was as unpredictable and full of surprises as she was.

 

He spent many happy months under the golden woods. From there he went to Fangorn, where he had become acquaintance of an old ent, Treebeard. He walked over the hills and learned the language of the ravens of the deep forests. He climbed the mountain and waited patiently for the eagles come to him, and he would befriend them. Finally, in the ancient forests of Fangorn, his petty worries and grievances came to seem so small that he almost forgot them. Almost.

 

For from time to time he would hear a familiar voice in his head, the revered voice of a person he could never grow apart of, ever. If he concentrated, he could reach out to Lord Elrond also. It was easier now that he had the bond with Galadriel, and each bond between the three of them strengthened the other. A night, as he fell asleep, he felt as if there was a protective spirit guarding him.

 

He was not alone.

 

It was not that he thought himself unworthy. On the contrary. Saruman did not and would never understand the human condition. At least Gandalf had some experience. His temper, his moods, his meddlesome affection towards those near him were his failings and his strength. If this was to prove him unfit for the purposes of the Powers of the West, so be it.

 

In the following years he had many occasions to ponder atonement and redemption. One of those moments was when he was staying in Rivendell on his way to Erebor. It was one of those summers that seemed to fly past quickly, you barely had time to notice the spring bursting to bloom and then all of a sudden it was August.

 

It was a night of new moon, the sky was full of Varda’s stars and the air was heavy with the scent of the blossoms of the late summer. Gandalf had taken a liking of a sheltered corner in Celebrian’s garden. He was sitting by himself, smoking a pipe, humming to himself as Lord Elrond approached him.

 

”I know who it is you’re thinking of”, he said.

 

Gandalf sighed.

 

”I hope you do not judge an old man too harshly.”

 

”Not at all”, Elrond said. ”Not at all.”

 

They sat silently together for a while. It was the kind of night he felt most close to her, and to the whole elven kind, for that matter. If he was to be one of the peoples of Middle-earth, surely he would be an elf, even if The Third Age had been of their slow fading.

 

”How long have you known?” Gandalf asked.

 

”I have suspected as much from the beginning. But recently… Do you think that it’s really a good thing for you two to go so far apart? For she misses you also, I can feel it”, he said.

 

”It is how it has to be, for the time being”, Gandalf said. 

 

He turned to look at the reflection of the moon in the water, and Elrond left the matter at that.

 

 

V

 

_Year 2510 of the Third Age_

 

She was older, now. Not just her appearance, this weariness came from deep within her, the lines of sorrow and regret in her forehead. Gandalf had heard the story in Lindon. Celebrian had been captured, imprisoned and tortured by the orcs. Elrond's sons had been able to retrieve her but it was too late: she did not want to live in Middle Earth anymore and took a ship to the West.

 

Mithrandir himself, after having heard the news, travelled immediately to the east. He and Galadriel had corresponded from time to time. As the letters had stopped coming for years in a row, Mithrandir had anticipated it was due to the more difficult situation on the Misty Mountains, and he had not erred. The High Pass was now impossible to cross because of the hunting orcs.

 

He found her by the river on the border of the Golden Forest. Their bond was so strong now that each of them knew where the other one stood in spite on the darkness. He walked closer to her as she was waiting by the waterfall. She wore her hair up, her neck now visible, long and fragile and glowing white in the moonlight.

 

"I cold not protect her", she said, her voice oddly flat.

 

"Not everything is your responsibility", he said.

 

"Really? If not our loved ones, what is?"

 

"I do not know", he said. "Sometimes I feel as if the whole world was a burden on my shoulders. All the troubles, all the regrets. Other times I feel it is a gift. Your time with your daughter was a gift. It was not yours to regret, or dwell upon what you might or might not done wrong.”

 

”But you must not think that I have not the right to be bitter. She is theirs now, in the Great West. Powers that be trying to reclaim what they think is theirs”, she said.

 

"They have promised not to interfere", he said carefully.

 

"Yes, but won't help us either to defend ourselves against invaders. Against…”

 

She closed her eyes as if in pain. Then she opened them. Her form was terrifying.

 

”I shall never, ever go back to the bastards who allow this to happen”, she said.

 

Mithrandir took one more step towards her. She turned, and her grey eyes were glowing in the dark. 

 

"I no longer see the light of the trees", she whispered.

 

He took her hand. Looked into her eyes, beyond the dark pools, to the depths where the immortal light still shone. 

 

"I do", he said.

 

He knelt before her. For a long time he dared not to move. 

 

”My lady. I know I have not the right to ask this. But if it was possible in any way, any at all, that our paths and destinies would unite, would you do me the honor?”

 

He did not believe his own words. Had he really uttered them? Her expression was now softer. She looked gently at him as her fingers moved to caress his cheek and she reached out to kiss his forehead.

 

”I promise I will give it a thought.”

 

Together they returned to the house. If their love-making before had been urgent and desperate, full of need, it was now different: slow and gentle, full of deep understanding between the two of them. The walls of the Last Home sheltered them; here, where it all started years ago it it felt like coming home.

 

 

VI

 

 

In the year 2850 of The Third Age Gandalf again entered Dol Gûldur at great risk and found out the man, Necromancer, was indeed Sauron himself. In the dungeons he found a tormented creature, an old dwarf-king who gave him a map and a key. After having done that the king died in his arms. There was nothing Gandalf could do about Necromancer, not at this point. He waas forced to flee.

 

The next year White Council met again. Gandalf came into the council-room with Elrond. Saruman was there, sitting in a high chair as if on a throne, but the Lady remained standing as she greeted the men. Radagast was missing, of course. He rarely made it from his dwelling at Mirkwood.

 

Saruman paced the room. 

 

"We must be on our guard. I for one will remain at post in Isengard. Mithrandir can keep the orcs in the mountains in check, as he is constantly traveling in the North." 

 

The same message he had repeated for hundreds of years now. He paused a little. 

 

"Although I cannot understand what it is that interests you in the North so much."

 

Gandalf shrugged. This was not the time to talk about the hobbits, the strange little folk he had found in the North. The Lady caught his eyes and smiled. He felt it again, like a whisper in the cool autumn air that none of the others present seemed to notice.

 

Galadriel understood what he saw in hobbits. Saruman would not understand. His thoughts lingered with the high and mighty, king’s of men, not the little folks of Middle-earth. 

 

And so the council went on. Just the four of them, and secrets even amongst themselves.

Certainly they could not orchestrate the fates of Middle Earth themselves. But their cause was not hopeless, either. Not with the skill of Saruman, the knowledge of Elrond and the wisdom of Galadriel. 

 

If only they didn't waste so much time.

 

He could try and take the matter into his own hands, but without the support of Saruman and Elrond it could not be. Even if Galadriel would stand by his side, as always.

 

And he relented, as always. It was not in his nature to stand up against Saruman, at least not yet. And as Gandalf looked into Lady Galadriel's eyes, he was assured once again that his chosen path of council and compassion was the right one. He could still do his part.

 

The tingling of many bells summoned them to the supper at the great hall.

 

At the supper she did not come to sit at the high table with Elrond and other guests. She sat at the other end of the hall and talked with some friends, and a beautiful woman that must have been her daughter. But her gaze travelled often where he was sitting. It took all of his will not to stare back and thus reveal his thoughts to anyone watching. Her eyes were glimmering now, with joy and something else, curiosity, maybe. Again Gandalf felt the same wonder as he had felt throughout the years. It called and spoke for him, for no one else, as if the fire within him had suddenly blazed upon a warm breeze.

 

He only vaguely noticed how accustomed he had come to all this. If it was to be like this forever, them circling around each others like moths to a flame that was their undying love for each other, so be it.

 

Days went by quickly in the Last Homely House, as the autumn light faded and the golden leaves fell down. Gandalf was to leave with a large party of riders hunting orcs in the North. He himself was not one to ride out slaying the mountains orcs, but hoped to meet the Rangers in the vast plains of the mountain base. From there, he did not know, but it was his plan to chart the wilderness of Gandalf as much as he could. With the dragons returning, the peoples of North would definitely be in need of a good advice.

 

Galadriel did’t come out. He had not suspected as much. But in his head he heard a voice say: ”Take care.”

 

 

###

 

The next person to call up a meeting of the White Council was Saruman himself 2941. He would not speak of his sudden change of hearts, and Gandalf did not question him, he was so relieved for the fact that now they would finally act. He had come in haste, for he had been traveling with Thorin Oakenshield helping the dwarfs in their quest to reclaim their homeland.

 

 

The purging of Dol Gûldur was a success. By the devices of Saruman they were able to drive the enemy out. Galadriel in all her power and glory was unmatched. The nameless, faceless enemy had to flee once more to the East. 

 

Gandalf and Galadriel parted Elrond and Saruman at the edge of the forest. As they retired to Radagast’s dwelling they were in a good mood. Even then Gandalf was contemplative.

 

”I have a feeling Sauron will not stay silent for as long as he has done these past centuries”, he said. ”It may be soon we’ll have to gather again.”

 

”Do you think our friend Saruman might be jealous?” Galadriel mused.

 

”Please, do not speak of him. But I don't think he's jealous.” 

 

”For all I know he hates us both. But there is something the matter with him.”

 

"He is a strange man indeed. Who will ever know the depths of his heart?”

 

Galadriel turned to him.

 

”Now that we have won, at least for now, I will have my prize.”

 

”Would you have me as your slave?” Gandalf asked jokingly. At least half jokingly.

 

”I might”, she said and smiled. ”But a simple kiss will suffice for now.”

 

They laughed, but I was friendly laughter. Galadriel kissed Gandalf and bid him farewell.

 

The next morning Gandalf rode to Erebor, and to the battle awaiting there.

 


	4. The War

VII

In 2953 the White Council met for the last time. Sauron had declared himself openly and started to gather power in Mordor. It was in this time that their final hour drew near, that of the free peoples of Middle-earth. Powers that be lay still in the West and the wise had gathered to once again take counsel and try to think of the way to defeat Sauron without help from overseas.

They talked of allies and friends. There were not many. It was all the elves and the dwarfs could do but try not to lose their own lands to the enemy. The men would not be of help at this point. They were scattered, leaderless, as there wasn’t a king on the throne of Gondor anymore and had not been for a long time.

The council discussed the matter of the One Ring. They talked about events after the fall of Isildur, and discussion drew eventually to the other Rings of Power. It was strange, Gandalf noticed, that even as Saruman seemed very interested in all regarding the rings, he would not push the matter on where the Three Rings were being kept - it was as if he had been wary of seeming too interested.

"No news of the One Ring, then?" Lord Elrond said.

"The One Ring sleeps. It has passed from our sight", Saruman said. "For all we know it has travelled by the waves of great Anduin and washed to the sea, wherein it will remain until the end of all earth.”

"How can we be sure? The ring is lost, but not destroyed. Sauron has disappeared, but he is not gone from this world. How will we make sure he does not find it again?” Gandalf said.

”We can’t. We may hope he thinks we have and try to use it at some point. In which case he would become aware of it’s location and coma to claim it.”

They fell silent.

”Is shall return to Isengard and strengthen my watch”, Saruman said. ”There is much to be done.”

Gandalf stayed for the night in Galadriel’s room. They did not talk much, just laid side by side and watched the moon and the star from and open window as they had done once, centuries ago. 

Galadriel did not speak of Gandalf's proposition nor gave an answer of any kind. Maybe because there was no resolve, no device that could lift them to another place. The paths that lay before them were those of war and precarious future. There was little they could do to steer their own destinies, let alone each others'.

 

VIII

Much has been written about The Great Years 3018-19, about the sorrow and losses of the war of the ring. If the two millenia had been full of waiting and standing back, things were now progressing at frightful speed. Gandalf found himself at the center of the events and could but try to follow his chosen path through the hesitations and difficulties. 

After having guessed the truth about Bilbo’s ring he travelled war and wide with fear in his heart. He also searched everywhere for the creature Gollum, but the enemy found it first. He had no choice but to return to the vaults of Minar Anor that was now Minas Tirith: there he found the description of the One Ring.

At long last a message came from Lórien: Aragorn had passed that way with Gollum. Gandalf was relieved, even if he had now the arduous task of questioning the creature ahead of him. From his mouth he found out just what he had feared: the enemy knew about the hobbits and the Shire.

From that on everything he did seemed to go wrong. His imprisonment in Isengard, the delays, indeed the near-lethal attempt at passing the mountain in the winter time. He lead the Nine Companions to the best of his ability, but failed one time after another. He longed for a short rest. He longed for Lothlórien. Secretly he had been happy about them having to take the way through the mines of Moria, if only to get closer to her.

He had thought it couldn't get any worse. He had been wrong.

One error, one mislaid step in the face of a terrible enemy, and it was all over.

###

He fell into nothingness.

It was dark for a time that felt like eternity. 

The enemy was gone, everything was gone.

Never had the stars seemed so far.

###

He rather would not open his eyes, but the light forced him.

Gandalf lay naked on the summit. The snowy mountain tops blinded his eyes after the long dark. For a long time he didn't remember who he was or how he had gotten there. There was pain, a shadow in his mind that he could not quite grasp and a heaviness in his heart that was enough to crush him. 

There was a mission.

Suddenly he was wide awake. He could not stay.

There were thing to do.

An eagle came to retrieve him, sent by the Lady of Light. Though he was new to this world, the name sounded familiar to his core. A concept, made of words, an image in his head of longing and sorrow and beauty. He remembered.

He told the eagle to take him to Lórien, but they were already on their way. In the great bird’s grasp he traveled the wide distance between the mountain and the forest.

The eagle lay him on a green hill, where Galadriel and Celeborn stood waiting for him. 

”Do not worry”, Galadriel whispered in his ear. ”You are home.”

##

After a long rest Gandalf felt better. He would walk on the meadows and sleep in the shade of the golden trees. In Lórien he received a new staff and clothes of pure white. Gandalf the White, they now called him, as they had once called Saruman White. He saw very little of lady Galadriel. It was just as well. He felt her during his every waking hour and even in his sleep.

One morning he received a word that Lord Celeborn wanted to see him. The Lord greeted him warmly in spite on the circumstances. Gandalf could not help that he was worried. What would the Lord have to say? They walked together on a hill covered with yellow flowers like small stars.

”As you may have guessed, I wanted to talk about Galadriel.”

Gandalf nodded. He didn’t say a word, for there was not much to say.

"Soon she will leave these shores, and I shall not be going with her”, Celeborn said.

”Have you discussed this with the Lady?”

Celeborn smiled. 

”After such a long time we need no words. I am of this land, she is of the other, and at this long last we shall part. Take care of my treasure after she is gone from me",

”I can not promise that she will have me", Mithrandir said. ”But I try and look after her just the same.

###

That night they met by Galadriel’s mirror. He was clad in white, so was she, two lean shapes shining in the dark. Her face was serious.

"I cannot take this anymore”, she said.

"What do you mean, my lady? Surely you have been through worse than this", Gandalf said. For some reason he dared not to go too near her but gave her space.

"Yes, but no more I shall have this. You see, we are all damaged beyond repair, us Firstborns.” 

”You must not mean that”, he said, even if he knew she did. She laughed bitterly.

”Tell me, Gandalf. Have you ever seen lord Elrond without his regalia, king Thranduil without his glamour? We have suffered dragon fire, battle, hunger even. We have lost so much over the years, and each loss has made it's mark on us. At this long last I am finished. I'm sorry, my love, but it's how I feel. This war I cannot face.”

Gandalf walked slowly towards her. She took a step back.

"Do not try and persuade me. I will not have part of this."

He shook his head with sadness in his eyes. ”I would never try to manipulate you, you know that.”

"When I felt the bond broke… I was so sure that I had lost you forever. I shut down. Only for the Fellowship arriving in Lórien in need of protection I was able to put aside my grief and focus on the mission."

Her voice was but a whisper. Tears rolled down her fair cheeks.

"How dare you scare me so much?" she said.

"There, there", he said as she collapsed into his arms. It was the first time he saw her cry.

”Please, if not for Middle-earth, for me. Bear with me one last time. One last war, and then I’ll be gone. I will go back to the West once this is over, and if you do not come, it will be just the same. Just… stand with me.”

Galadriel wiped the tears from her face. Her voice was hollow as she said:

”One last time.”

Gandalf took her hand and looked upon her eyes. And finally it dawned to him: it was to be like this, it had to be like this from the beginning. This was the plan, the road laid out for them as the bearers of the white and the red rings. She was to protect him; he was to rekindle her hope and make her go on.

Next morning he bid the pair a fond farewell.

”We will see each other again”, he told them as he rode away. 

And with that promise, there were no other way but to win. 

 

IX

And the war was upon them, and ruin, and doom; and from the ashes a victory unforeseen. Frodo the ring-bearer completed his task with help of a friend and a foe. The following year in Minas Tirith was full of joy and healing. Gandalf spent time there and even as he enjoyed every minute, he found he was quickly becoming his old impatient self. Finally his wait was rewarded.

The banquet was a coronation ceremony as much as a wedding. He blessed Arwen’s crown and pronounced her, the Eveningstar, the queen of Gondor. The newlyweds thanked and embraced him. Never in his two thousand years in Middle-earth had Gandalf felt so young.

Galadriel was there, and Elrond, and all kinds of fair folk. Hobbits had lingered, as had the remaining members of the fellowship. There were noble people from Rohan and Belfalas. Celeborn was there too.

During the feast Gandalf sat beside Galadriel. On his other side was Elrond. There they sat, out in the open, on their fingers the Three Rings that would not have them yield to do their bidding anymore. They merely whispered to them about the years they had spent together until the very air between them was full of memory.

Afterwards he and Galadriel went walking in the palace garden. The White Tree would grow and flourish under the rule of King Aragorn. Gandalf’s hand brushed Galadriel's. He was old in appearance, ancient even, but his stature was straight and there was still strength in his body. She was as young and love as before.

”Thank you”, said Gandalf quietly. ”For walking through with this with me.”

”We would have fought until the end. It did not come to that, for which I’m glad”, Galadriel said.

”Have you forgiven me?”

”There’s nothing to forgive.”

He stood very close and leaned on her, their hair flowing and tangling together, silver to gold. A kiss, and an embrace. It was then and there that a promise was made, an oath renewed. They stood together midst the fragrant orchard, hand in hand. Before their eyes lay the White Tree and all they had accomplished.

An later: night surrounded them in her bed-chamber, the gentlest of the nights. In the candle-light her eyes glimmered like stars. Her skin was silk and her hair pure woven gold of the sun.

”I told Frodo I would leave for the west. Will you sail with me?” she asked.

Gandalf smiled. Slowly he took the ring from his finger and the one still in Galadriel’s finger. Galadriel drew breath. They exchanged the rings. Narya now burned red in Galadriel’s white hand, Nenya shone bright in Gandalf’s little finger.

”I will sail with you”, Gandalf said.

Galadriel stared at the rings mesmerized. She lay in his arms, half-clad, carefree. It was all Gandalf could do but not to cry.

”It seems our task here is done”, she said and turned to kiss him.

They needed not to speak anything more. The night was theirs, and so would be the stars until the end of days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank's for reading! The LotR universe doesn't belong to me, of course. Had to be done. Sorry! Feedback much appreciated.


End file.
